


Slow Kids at Play

by jacksin



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Band Fic, Blow Jobs, Famous Stiles Stilinski, M/M, POV Derek, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Stranger Sex, Throat Fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28878012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jacksin/pseuds/jacksin
Summary: Erica drags Derek to a college band's concert. He isn't excited at all, but things turn around when he meets a cute guy in the bathroom. He's a little off, but he's good looking.-Porn with minor plot. Sterek hooking up as strangers.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 12
Kudos: 187





	Slow Kids at Play

**Author's Note:**

> this was previously uploaded years ago under a different account, T rated, and shorter. I've come back to rework it into some kind of smut and develop the overall writing a bit. Let me know what you think in the comments if you want. Kudos appreciated always
> 
> smut starts at : "Okay, where are we?"

Derek whined the whole afternoon. His whining getting him nowhere, he dropped down and refused to leave his bed, pillow over his face. He began mumbling curses toward Erica as she yanked on his free arm, using all of her strength to pull him out of bed. She might not have been successful had it been for Boyd. He ambushed Derek from behind, his strong arms pushing hard against Derek’s back muscles, causing his feet to plant themselves on the wooden floor.

Though he was up and headed toward the front door, he was dragging his feet to show how reluctant he was to tag along with them tonight. Unfortunately, the only thing he was rewarded with was being stuffed in the backseat of the two-door car.

Boyd was driving and Erica was shotgun, grinning widely at him over his shoulder. Derek hunched over in her small Honda would always be an entertaining sight.

“You’re acting like we’re dragging you to your own funeral, Der,” she said, turning back to face the road. “Besides, I know for a fact that you would enjoy their music if you would actually listen to it.” She had pulled up her phone and began fumbling with the AUX cord with her left hand. Derek knew what was coming, and his hands slapped over his ears as soon as the first note boomed through the car stereo. As soon as the drums picked up, he gave in.

“Okay, you win! Just turn it down!” Derek growled, “You’re going to ruin my eardrums for when I want to listen to actual music.”

Erica grinned, turning the music much lower, letting it fade to background noise. “You are such an old man,” she chuckled.

“You’re making me go to a college band,” Derek argued. “College bands are terrible, and notorious for being way too loud and walking away with little ability to hear.”

“They’re actually good!” Erica protested. “And they aren’t going to hurt your precious ear drums, I promise. It’s Indie Rock, not Screamo.”

“I know you’ve heard them before, Derek,” Boyd chimed in, eyes still glued to the road. “Even I can admit they’re good, and I agree with a lot of your opinions on Erica’s music taste—Ouch!” Boyd’s right hand shot off the wheel, batting off Erica’s left, which had just pinched him.

“You like my music taste,” she confirmed, mostly to herself. “But they aren’t even my regular music taste, they’re everyone’s! You should see their streams recently, they’re gaining a lot of popularity.”

“Yeah, well popularity is pop music, and I don’t listen to pop music,” Derek huffed. His hand was under his left thigh, pulling his leg up to his chest to alleviate the cramp he felt coming on. Erica’s backseat wasn’t suitable for children let alone a full grown man.

“That’s absolutely not true,” Erica responded.

“He’s just going to shit on everything today, Erica,” Boyd interjected. “Just let him grumble and moan and let’s enjoy the pre-show hype.” Erica smiled at Boyd, silently agreeing with his position. She looked over her shoulder at Derek and stuck out her tongue, moving to the car stereo and turning up the volume dial, right as the second song on the album began.

In his fight to stay at home a few minute earlier, Derek had failed to prepare for the night out at all. His pockets were empty, save his wallet and phone. He gave in, there was no way he was drowning out the music with his fingers in his ears. He listened to a solid minute of the song. He attempted to avoid actually absorbing the music, but it was hard to find some kind of critique to have without listening closely.

“The drummer is shitty,” Derek grumbled, deciding that would be his gripe. He told Erica and Boyd he didn’t want to go out, he really didn’t. He was going to at least try to make them regret bringing him along. “Do we really have to listen to their whole album before we listen to them for two hours?”

“One, the drummer is not shitty, you just don’t know anything about music. Two, yes we do seriously want to listen to them before, we have to be able to sing along!” Erica turned the dial up a little more, joining in on the lyrics.

Derek sat back in his seat as much as he could, which was just a little over 90 degrees. As he listened to the music, he opened up Shazam to google the band. “Their name is Slow Kids At Play,” he realised. “I’m pretty sure that’s offensive.”

“You’re trying way too hard, Der,” Erica called over the music. “It’s Slow, Kids at Play, like the street sign,” she corrected. “I think it’s offensive that you assumed it was something else.

Derek closed his mouth, maybe this was the time to actually give up. He didn’t have any real critique of the music so far. Sure, it wasn’t what he would generally listen to, but it wasn’t something he would be opposed to having on during a party, either. There were worse things he could be on his way to. Like his funeral.

——

Boyd pulled up at the destination marker on his phone, looking puzzled. There were iron gates blocking off the road ahead, and the surrounded roads looked empty. “Are we at the right place?” He asked Erica, flicking open his phone and double checking the address.

Erica was looking out the window, behind the car. “I think Maps took us to the other side of the stage,” she said. “There seems to be equipment and lights right behind us, and a band-looking van.” Derek craned his head out the small glass section of the backseat window, trying to see what a ‘band-looking van’ looked like. It was off-white and seemingly dented in multiple places, there were painted hand-prints on the left side of the sliding door.

“I’ve pulled up the email for the tickets and parking directions say we need to head down Madison Ave and then turn right on Spring Street,” Boyd announced. “Can you pull that up on your phone?” He asked Erica. She turned down the music as if to concentrate on the directions, and Boyd backed out of the area they were in. Derek’s eyes were still on the band’s van, noticing the handprints had small signatures next to them. He thought it was somewhat endearing, this small college band thought of themselves as rock stars.

As they drove down Madison and pulled onto Spring, Derek realised they were at an actual concert venue. Not some band night at a bar downtown, not someone’s frat house basement, but a venue specifically for bands and sports games. Maybe they weren’t some awful, tiny college band. They knew they were in the right place as soon as they drove down Spring. There was a mess of cars turned every which was at what looked like the smallest parking lot in the city.

“This can’t be the only lot, right?” Erica mused, craning her head around the pack of cars. Boyd was looking at his phone again. Derek just shrugged.

“It looks like there’s normally an indoor garage, but it doesn’t seem to be open tonight, I think that’s where we were with the iron bars,” Boyd said, looking up from his phone. He frowned at the sight in front of them. “This is normally overflow parking. Why would they choose to only have overflow parking open?”

“Gee, I wonder,” Derek began. “Maybe because it’s a shitty college band?”

Erica shot him her famous death glare and he stopped himself from taking it any further. He could tell she was getting sick of his complaining very fast. Boyd has pulled the car into reverse once again, and they were backing out of the jam they were blocked into and down the street. “We should street park before everyone else has the same idea,” he explained. Erica smiled, rising out of her seat and kissing him on the cheek.

Unfortunately, the area was packed with houses and businesses, and street parking was already limited. About a mile’s drive from the venue, Boyd found a place he could parallel park, just barely.

“See, if we didn’t have my car we wouldn’t have been able to find a spot,” Erica smirked back at Derek as she spoke. Derek huffed, kicking out his legs and pushing on the passenger seat in a desperate attempt to free himself. She rolled her eyes, pulling on the lever that lurched the seat forward. Derek shook his body free, twisting his torso around itself. He considered complaining about the near mile walk they now had to make, but knew it would be one of the highlights of the night. The air was crisp in the fall, and Derek smiled watching Erica go out of her way to step on the amber leaves as they made their way down the sidewalk. She was rambling on about her favourite member of the band, who sang the majority of her favourite song. Boyd seemed to be in a similar state of disengagement as Derek, though he walked along with Erica, nodding and smiling as she spoke.

As they approached the venue, Erica fished the tickets out of her purse. They were purchased online, and were attached to the email confirmation and saved as QR codes in their phones, but she had gone out of the way to print out physical tickets for display. She liked keeping mementos of their trips and adventures together, something she had done since high school. Derek secretly loved seeing all of their memories pinned up in her room.

Derek blinked at the ‘SOLD OUT’ sticker over the band’s name on the pin up board. None of the other bands that week had the same treatment. Erica pushed her phone into Derek’s hand and made him take a photo of her in front of the sign, then a photo of her and Boyd. She asked only once for a photo of the three of them, and Derek predictably declined.

They walked through the iron gates and past security (a quick wave of a metal detector, and a glance inside Erica’s purse). It was an outdoor venue, with seats toward the back and open grass at the front of the stage. Derek preferred concerts like this, it was lighter, less stuffy, and he had a lot more room to move around. His hatred of concerts definitely stemmed from the fact that thousands of people were crammed into a space meant for a hundred.

Erica pulled them forward through the growing crowd, causing Derek to bump into a few strangers. The touch was not welcomed by either party and Derek grunted at Erica. “Why are we already headed up to the front?”

“It’s general admission, Derek! If we don’t get to the front now, it’s going to be impossible,” Erica replied.

“Can’t we just enjoy the concert from the back?” He offered. She returned his question with another glare. “Right, your concert, your decision.”

As they made their way past the halfway mark, Derek looked back over his shoulder. The crowd was growing exponentially as more and more people made it past ticketing and security. If this band had really sold out, this place was going to be completely packed in less than an hour. He planted his feet at a sudden thought. “If we’re going to be trapped in here for the rest of the night, we need to get drinks right now.”

“Definitely, some food too if they have it,” Boyd agreed.

“Okay, you’re right,” Erica replied. “We’re going to keep moving to the front, maybe see if we can squeeze barricade, we’ll text you what we want.”

Boyd grabbed Derek on his shoulder and he was turning to head back out of the crowd. “Just the cheapest beers, man,” he whispered. “None of those $15 vodka cranberries they try and push on you at these places.” Derek nodded in agreement and parted ways with his friends, hearing a ‘be fast’ call from Erica. He checked his watch as he attempted to move through the swarming crowd, the opening band didn't start for another twenty minutes.

It took Derek a good ten minutes to get back to the front entry of the venue and over toward the concessions and merchandise section. He got a text from Erica, requesting Peanut M&M’s and a band t-shirt, Derek scoffed. He looked over at the line for merchandise, which was significantly shorter than the one for concessions. He had his credit card on him, and he could always Venmo request Erica. The couple in front of him took way too long to pick out a set of T-shirts. Derek looked down at his watch. He wasn’t worried about missing the opening act, but he worried the longer he was out of the crowd, the harder it would be to get back in. Erica had sent a photo of the shirt she wanted, so he held up his phone to the man running the sales, requested a small, put it on hold to pick up after the show, and was on his way.

Just past concessions, he noticed the restrooms. It would be a lot easier to pee right now than it would be with twelve beers in his arms. There was a bit of a line out the womens’, but nothing for the mens’ room. Definitely the best time to go. He pulled open the door and was surprised to see it completely empty, save one man at the sink, whose head was half in it. Derek stared for a moment before making his way to the urinal. He did his business, zipped himself up, and met the guy at the sink.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the brown-haired man staring into the mirror, his wet hand in his hair, messing it up more than it already was. Derek wasn’t sure what his goal was. The man turned his head toward Derek. They locked eyes for a moment and then the messy-haired guy winked at him. Derek frowned, eyeing the guy up and down, looking behind himself, then looking back at the man. He rose his eyebrows and the man rose his back, wiggling them slightly.

“So you want to hook up?” Derek concluded aloud. His voice was low, but not disagreeable.

“What?” The guy sputtered, hitting his hand against the sink.

“You winked at me. In the mens’ room. And then wiggled your eyebrows.” Derek was no stranger to bathroom propositions, the bars he frequented had little security. Though the men were normally not his age, nor very attractive, so he generally walked out without a word. He realised this was likely the first time he had engaged, soberly, in a situation like this. And the guy looked confused. Shit, had he read this wrong?

“Yeah! Because I—Wait, do you want to hook up?” The boy repeated.

Derek frowned. “What were you trying to do?” He couldn’t have read the situation wrong, there was no other way to read it.

“No! I, uh, yeah. I mean sure, you’re hot,” he replied, slightly stumbling over the words as they shot out of his mouth. He ran his hand through his hair, “All these years I didn’t realise how easy this could be done.” He was talking to himself, Derek was sure.

Derek glanced behind himself at the door, open to the very public concert. “We might want to get to it,” Derek stated, “if the opening band is shitty people will be escaping this way.”

The other man let out a huff of a laugh. “I think we’re safe,” he said.

Ah, a fan, Derek thought. “Wait,” he said, stepping backwards, “How old are you?” The concert was 18+, but hooking up with some eighteen-year-old at the bathroom of a $20 concert wasn’t on his mid-twenties to-do list.

The man rolled his eyes. “I’m, twenty-three,” he replied. Derek narrowed his eyes, taking in his young features. “What, you want ID?” Before Derek could say anything, the kid was whipping out his wallet from his pocket, flipping it open to an ID. Derek eyed the card, trying to make out the name. His face had obviously given his struggle away. “Just call me Stiles,” Stiles rushed, flipping his wallet back over and shoving it in his pocket. It was completely unique, yet Derek could have sworn he had heard the name before.

He shook his head. “I’m Derek. And I’m twenty-five, don’t worry.”

Stiles grinned, “I wasn’t worried.” The two of them stood there, still at the sinks, staring at each other. Stiles rocked on his heels twice, then took a step forward. “Follow me,” he said, grabbing Derek’s arm and pulling him out the bathroom door.

Stiles was attractive, very attractive, and Derek’s type almost wholly. He didn’t even think to ask where they were going, just followed blindly in this wondrous turn of events. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and cursed. Reluctantly, he pulled out his phone. Another message from Erica, this time wondering what was taking so long. Derek sent a quick message back, explaining that the lines were really long for both the concessions and the merchandise, adding a lie that he was still in line for the shirt. Erica couldn’t complain about that. 

He jogged to catch up with Stiles, who had let go of his arm and moved ahead of him down the opposite side of the venue. It was getting much darker and the opening band was coming out on stage, making the noise level rise.

“Where are we going, exactly?” Derek finally asked, moving closer to Stiles in order to hear him. They were on a weirdly pressed dirt path, seemingly behind the venue.

“Away from this,” he gestured wildly. “I know where I’m going,” he chuckled.

“I’m not worried about that,” Derek replied. “My friends are waiting for me, and I don’t have my ticket so I can’t exactly leave.”

“We’re not leaving the concert, it’s all good." He was smiling in an oddly-goofy way. "But your ticket should be on your phone”

Derek frowned, rethinking his decision to follow a complete stranger from the bathroom. Suddenly, Stiles pulled him through a heavy metal door at the end of the path.

—-

“Okay, where are we?” Derek’s voice was steady, but he was wondering if he had just trapped himself.

“We’re still at the concert, I swear.” From the sound of the drums and guitar blasting nearby, Derek could have figured that out for himself. As he was thinking of a reply, he felt the other man push up against him.

“You always this forward?” Derek growled in surprise, flipping Stiles around and pressing him against the door.

“Only before a show, trust me,” Stiles replied, lips ghosting over Derek’s. It was a weird reply, but maybe the kid got off on concerts, he wasn’t in a place to judge.

Derek inched closer to Stiles, almost connecting their lips. They breathed into each other for a moment, staring in the semi-darkness. Derek was almost unsure what to do in the moment, this was such a surreal situation. And where were they? Before he could completely disappear, Stiles made the move Derek had been stalling. Their lips connected and they instantly melted into each other. Derek pressed hard up against Stiles as Stiles ran his teeth along the bottom of Derek’s lips, making him shutter. His bite was soft, asking for more. Derek responded, pushing his tongue inside Stiles’ mouth, exploring everything he could. They were pressed so close against the metal door, and he could feel the brunette getting hard against his leg. Stiles’ hands slipped under Derek’s shirt, exploring his torso in the small space between them. He flicked across his nipples, raking his finger nails over Derek’s shoulders and down his back. Derek responded enthusiastically, almost growling into the kiss as he bit into Stiles’ lower lip. Stiles groaned in response, wrapping his leg around Derek and involuntarily thrusting in response. Derek sucked hard, thrusting into Stiles’ leg in need of friction.

Stiles was kissing him fervently, desperately, abandoning any attempt to reign in his thrusts. The feeling of his hard-on against Derek’s leg fuelled him even further. He grabbed Stiles’ ass through the tight jeans and pulled him in, feeling his cock strain against the thick material. Derek grinned against Stiles’ mouth, feeling the boy come undone so quickly. He moved down to Stiles’ neck while his hands moved to work on Stiles’ belt. Working diligently, he discarded the belt and pulled Stiles’ pants down in one seamless motion. As Stiles’ fingers continued to explore Derek’s torso, Derek palmed at Stiles’ pulsing hard-on through his briefs, his own growing just as hard listening to the man moan in his ear against the booming instrumental of the opening act.

Derek kissed back up Stiles’ neck and across his jaw, stopping at his ear. His hands slipped into Stiles’ underwear, running under the waistband right above his ass. “Bet I can make you cum before the band comes on,” he breathed, nipping at Stiles’ ear.

“Well, I'd never take that bet,” Stiles laughed, breaking the heat. Derek pulled back for a minute, his hands retreating to his own space. “No, it’s just a joke,” Stiles covered, “Please, make me come.”

“Are you fucking with me?” Derek asked, frowning slightly at Stiles. There’s a weird change in the atmosphere and he couldn't tell what had happened.

“Absolutely not,” Stiles breathed in response, his hands still under Derek’s shirt, wrapping around his waist. Derek looked down at the man, pleading below him. He’s strange, but he’s definitely as into this as Derek is (if not more).

“Maybe no more talking,” Derek suggested lowly, his hands dipping below Stiles’ waistband and squeezing both ass-cheeks firmly.

“Kiss me and I’ll shut up,’ Stiles replied.

Derek wasn’t going to argue with that. He pushed into Stiles once more, his right hand moving up to press against the younger man’s hip bone. Their lips locked again, pressing into each other rougher than before. Derek’s thumb ground into Stiles’ hip as the younger man bit into his lip again. The heat quickly built back up between the two, Stiles’ jeans already being off doing them many favours. Derek’s hands were quickly back against the younger man’s waistband. Done with the teasing, he dropped his hand into the front of Stiles’ briefs, wrapping his fist around Stiles’ bare cock. The brunette gasped at the contact, thrusting up as Derek began to stroke, his other hand yanking the underwear down before finding its place on his ass.

Their kissing heated up, the two of their tongues licking every inch of each other’s mouths, occasional bites making their way into the mix. Stiles’ right hand found a grip on Derek’s jaw, his hand moving again the rough stubble of Derek’s beard. They made out, Derek jerking off Stiles, for a few minutes before Derek broke contact. Stiles moaned quietly in protest.

“You’ll like this,” Derek mused, pressing kisses down Stiles’ jaw and across his throat, before dropping to his knees. He took Stiles’ cock in one hand, slowly running his fist from the tip to the base, and back up, slickening the skin with Stiles’ own pre-come. Derek made one final movement down with his hand, before circling the tip of Stiles’ dick with his tongue. He sucked slowly, just on the tip for a moment, before dropping open his throat and taking Stiles’ in whole.

“Fu—uck,” came the staggered curse. Derek pulled up quickly, repeating the motion again, taking Stiles in completely, this time with more saliva. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked roughly a couple of times before adding his hand, gripping the base of Stiles’ cock and jerking in a rhythm with his mouth.

Stiles began, but failed to finish, all types of curses as Derek blew him in a wet, slick haze. His right hand firm on his cock, Derek’s left drew its way to Stiles’ hip, his thumb making rough circles against the bone in time with the bobbing of his throat. Derek rotated between deep-throating and slowly jerking Stiles, letting his tongue drag behind his mouth as he lingered at the tip, before sucking all the way down; the wet heat enveloped the younger man. As Derek continued to deep-throat, Stiles had to use the door to keep himself propped up, already feeling weak in the knees. Derek adjusted himself a little better, pushing against Stiles, righting the younger boy so he could feel his weight underneath him.

“Thanks but—”

“Shh,” Derek cut him off with his words before moving to lick a stripe from the base of Stiles’ cock to the head. Stiles groaned, weakening again. Derek licked another stripe, circling Stiles’ head at the end, lapping at the pre-come which was forming. Stiles thrusted in response to the sensation, hitting Derek’s throat in a weird way.

Derek smiled to himself. “Let me help you there,” he murmured. Derek jerked Stiles’ cock for a moment before holding it still, in line with his mouth. He moved his left hand to Stiles’ ass, encouraging him to thrust forward. Stiles did as told, his dick guided by Derek’s hand fucking all the way into Derek’s open throat. Stiles let out a guttural moan at the feeling, almost missing Derek’s further encouragement. He massaged Stiles’ ass and pulled him in, encouraging the younger man to fuck harder. Stiles hungrily complied and thrusted deep into the open hole. Stiles looked down at the scene, Derek’s mouth gaping open, spit and pre-come sparkling in his stubble as Stiles’ cock slides easily in and out of Derek’s throat. Stiles tensed, feeling his orgasm build and Derek’s grip tightened on Stiles’ ass in response. Stiles attempted to pull back but Derek’s dull nails dug into Stiles’ ass cheeks.

“Want you to come down my throat,” Derek murmured, his eyes glued to Stiles’ leaking dick.

“Fuck, yeah, I can do that, yeah,” Stiles stammered in response.

Derek used his hand to guide Stiles’ cock back into his deep, open throat until his lips met Stiles’ crotch. He let his hands wander back around to Stiles’ ass, gripping hard and encouraging him to thrust fast. The pressure in Derek’s throat was like nothing else. Stiles was hard as a rock and the skin on his cock was smooth and wet slipping through his mouth, a pad of pre-come building up with every thrust. Stiles’ hands threaded through Derek’s hair gripping tightly, the muscles in his ass contracting as he thrusted one last time and shuttered into Derek’s throat. His grip on Derek’s hair relaxed as Derek relaxed on Stiles’ ass and swallowed the hot come sliding down the back of his throat.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Stiles breathed, letting himself collapse to the concrete floor. Derek looked down at the man, who was looking up at him. “You want me to take care of that?” Stiles asked, pointing at Derek’s pants, which were very poorly concealing his hard-on.

Derek gave him a sly smile, “Nah, I’m good.”

“You sure?” Stiles looked, well, fucked. His hair had somehow gotten messier, though Derek hasn’t touched it. He had a dopey smile on his face and his eyes were deep and glassy. He started to put himself back together, pulling up his briefs and pants lazily.

Derek felt his phone buzz against his back pocket and pulled it out, instinctively. He cursed, seeing five missed messages from Erica and two from Boyd. All messages some form of ‘Where the hell are you’ and ‘If you left you’re dead’.

“Shit, what time is it?” Stiles’ voice came from the ground, much more alert than seconds earlier.

“Uhh, 8:32,” Derek reported, glancing at the time on his phone.

“Fuck,” Stiles murmured. “Fuck,” he said again, this time more urgently. He jumped up from his spot, his legs immediately giving out under him. Derek caught him forward, pushing him back up against the door. “Thanks,” Stiles said, fumbling with his belt and muttering curses again. “Okay, well I have to go,” he announced. _Clearly_ , Derek thought. “Fuck, fuck, I really have to go but make sure you get my number after the show, okay?” He was gone faster than Derek could blink, yanking his body against the metal door and taking off as it opened. Derek stood in silence, the door slamming closed breaking it. At some point, the opening band had stopped playing, he realised. He looked back at the time on his phone, wondering what time Slow Kids was supposed to come on.

Pulling open his texts, he decided to respond to Erica. She replied almost immediately, telling him to get his ass to the stage ASAP. He looked at his empty hands and sighed. He would have to get beer, at least.

As he made his way down the dirt path, back toward the bathrooms, he thought about Stiles. He was strange, but endearing, and fucking hot. Was it just a hook up? Stiles said to get his number after the show, but what did that mean? A blow off, surely.

\---

Thankfully, concessions were empty with anticipation of the main act. Derek grabbed the beers and Erica’s M&Ms and began his fight toward the front of the stage. He never got word where exactly Erica and Boyd had posted up, so he headed in the same direction they had been going an hour ago, hoping to run into them on the way.

As he made his way into the first section of crowd, the unmistakeable sound of drums rang out through the space and every person in the area swarmed forward, the noise increasing by a factor of ten. Derek cursed under his breath, pushing through and taking advantage of the gaps being created as people moved forward. It took him the whole opening song, he got stepped on and stepped on multiple people, was pushed, prodded, poked, and yelled at, but he finally made it through the majority of the crowd and spotted Boyd’s tall stature among the large swarm of college girls at the barrier.

“Here,” Derek grunted, dropping the two six packs at their feet and holding the packet of M&Ms out to Erica. She kicked him in response.

“Where the _hell_ have you been?” She exclaimed, punching him for good measure.

“Lines were long,” he replied simply. “Didn’t you get my text?”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she hissed. “Now shut up.”

Another song had started and the vocalist had just began to sing. They were so close to the stage, it would have been impossible to hear Erica, he could come up with excuses in the next two hours. He looked up at the band, lights and flashes of colour highlighting each band member at different intervals.

Derek’s eyes were drawn to the drummer, his movements wildly dramatic, brown hair bouncing along with the beat. He hit the cymbal, his right drumstick spinning though his fingers as he brought it back down on beat. There was something alluring about the way he was moving, his hands and long fingers, his hair every which way, it was all oddly familiar somehow. It was hard to see anything through his mop of hair, hunched over behind the drum set, but Derek was sure he was grinning wildly. He thought about the hand prints on the van, this kid definitely had rock star potential.

“Hey Erica,” Derek vocalised between songs, “What’s the drummer’s name?”

“Why? I thought the drummer was shitty?” Erica replied, smirking.

“Yeah, well, maybe I was wrong,” he grumbled, earning the widest smile he had ever seen from Erica.

“His name is Stiles,” she answered, “Stiles Stilinski.”

**Author's Note:**

> anyway, let me know what you think! i also just made a twitter i don’t know what to do there, maybe follow me lol @stilestweakd


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